© Copyright 2007 - Carnaj - Used by permission
Storycodes: FF/m; bond; bagged; dumped; cons/reluct; XX
Recycled: Part 3
Author’s Note: I noticed a couple discrepancies between Parts 1 and 2. Nothing major I suppose, but I wanted to explain. First, the name of the main protagonist shifted from Ken to Kirk between the first two parts. Also, the packing in the victim’s mouth changed from a scarf to crusty socks. I blame this on the fact that I wrote the 2 issues on 2 separate computers. My own fault, in my rush to get the story off, though I read through for grammar, I didn’t read for continuity’s sake. In this part 3 I kept the errors in place as the former did not seem consequential, and the latter actually added to the story. Hopefully it reads well…
It was torture…
Pure and simply, that’s what it finally came down to; an exquisite torture that not only pushed my body to its limits, but fucked with my mind as well. And the worst part of it was that I had willingly put myself in the loving hands of my torturer, letting my girlfriend abuse me in new and exciting ways, and it had all been my own idea. Hell, I had begged her for it.
Idiot, yeah, but how was I to know that a simple twist on a bondage fetish would turn into such an ordeal of painfully monotonous hours? How was I to know that my girlfriend, Lisa, would get so into an idea that had just tweaked my curiosity enough to give it a try? Maybe I had been blinded by my own excitement. Maybe there was more to it all than I suspected?
God, I was starting to get delusional. Expected I suppose, after hours of bondage and almost total sensory deprivation, coupled with lack of food and water and limited air. Of course I was starting to hallucinate. I was hot and sweaty, stinking and in a daze with nothing to do but try to sleep or stay awake, to think, and of course remember…
I had first learned of the ‘new to me’ fetish of Trash Bagging on the Internet. There were a few sites that displayed images and stories, mostly bondage sites but a few Yahoo Groups and Live Journals as well. Now I have always been a fan of bondage. Nothing too sadistic mind, but I enjoyed being tied up and gagged for as long as I could take it, and in more than a few varying positions. It was only logical that when I came across the Trash sites that I got rock hard and anxious to give it a try. Luckily, or so I thought at the time, I had a loving partner that was all too often more than willing to play out my little fetish fantasies with me, bless her.
I met my girlfriend Lisa at our mutual job, a supermarket in one of the gentrifying neighborhoods of Brooklyn. I was a stock clerk there, and Lisa a cashier. Not the most likely place to find a bondage partner I know, and it was only sheer chance and foul weather that broke the ice so to speak, and we learned that we both shared a love for some kinky forms of foreplay. It was a conversation, a bit of flirting over a pair of Lisa’s sexy biker boots that got us together a few years back. I learned that she liked to be tied occasionally, but she really loved to have a guy bound and helpless and at her mercy for a bit of harmless fun and dominant humiliation. Lucky me, as my fetish thrill was to fill that role to a tee. I loved being bound and gagged, but really got off on having a woman torment and humiliate me, to walk around free and flaunting it while I writhed about, totally trapped for her slightest whim. We learned over time that there were other things as well, compliments to the bondage; mild spanking and cock and ball torture, and especially foot and shoe worship. It was not the pain, as Lisa did not want to see me hurt and of course I didn’t want to be hurt myself. It was all about the feeling and thrill, the helplessness and humiliation for me and the dominance and power that Lisa got a charge from.
Over the past few years I’ve spent many an hour under Lisa’s figurative thumb, and literal feet. I’ve been tied to the bed overnight, spread-eagled while she teased my balls blue. I’ve been lashed to a hard ass ladder back chair like a kidnap victim for hours, gagged, blindfolded and ignored while Lisa had free run of our Brooklyn apartment. I’ve writhed about in various hog-ties in every room of our home, quite often ending up a tightly bundled footstool for Lisa’s comfort while she relaxed with her feet propped on my back or face. She even kept me naked and as a slave once for two weeks when I was on vacation. I was ‘forced’ to do all of the work around the apartment; cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc. and I waited on my beautiful girlfriend literally hand and foot every day of my servitude. I loved it, and so did she I think. Point is, we loved the lifestyle, not as a permanent way of living mind, but a fun deviation from the daily drudgery of our otherwise normal, mundane lives. And we loved to try new things.
Timing is of course everything however, and the night that we had scheduled to try out the Trash Bag fetish Lisa came home in not the best of moods. She had had some trouble at work, $20 short in her register, and policy dictated a short suspension of a day, which happily left us both with the weekend off. Lisa though was not so pleased with the reason of her new found free time, and true to her love, warned me that it might not be such a pleasurable experience for me to be bound that night - last night. Now I know Lisa loves me, and I know too that she does not want to see me hurt, and I think it is that trust in her to do the right thing in the end that pushed me forward to let her bind me. Either that or the little head was thinking with the big head again.
Whichever, after a bit of foreplay that was mainly a lot of foot and shoe worship to get me worked up and Lisa calmed down, my girlfriend soon had me naked and tightly bound in a nice little hog-tie. She went all out, securing the knots with as much strength as she could muster, binding my wrists to my ankles and wrapping up my knees and elbows as well. It left me with just a little ability to move, just enough to squirm around on the floor with maybe a hope of picking at the knots to get free, as that was part of the fun. She finished me off with a gag; duct tape swathed over my mouth that was tightly packed with her balled up and crusty, smelly socks. Of course, there was one more step to take, or maybe better put, a leap of faith.
It took Lisa a bit of effort to get me rolled into not one but two of the huge industrial translucent bags that were used at work in the plastic recycling machines. These are tough and thick, used to contain the crushed cans and shredded plastic bottles that are redeemed, and big and voluminous as well. I knew when I took a few from work that I would fit easily enough, and I had been right.
I had also been right about the thrill I got after Lisa sealed the bags by zipping the ponytails with a zip-tie. I loved the trapped and helpless feeling that kept washing over me, a feeling that increased every time I saw Lisa pass through the milky, blurry plastic as she went about flaunting her freedom by watching TV, making dinner, going to the bathroom, and even teasing me with the occasional thump in passing. I was rock hard throughout, and Lisa played me like a fiddle, actually causing me some panic at first until she burned some air holes into my prison with her cigarette. She was loving it.
Phase two came when Lisa decided I had had enough fun though, and it was then that I did start to worry a bunch. She bundled me into two more industrial trash bags, these black that I had purchased at the local hardware store. I had expected that of course. Hell, I had been excited in anticipation of when it would happen. What scared me was when Lisa kicked things into high gear and dragged me out into the hallway for the night.
I won’t lie. I was hot with the play, and I came there in the hall right off the bat, and would again and again as things continued to develop. But I was a little scared too, more and more as I waited for Lisa to come back and drag me back into our apartment. Before too long I was hurting from the bondage and growing groggy from the monotony. There was little break from the boredom of being trapped, drifting in and out of sleep, usually waking due to a painful cramp in my legs or my head thumping on the floor when I dozed off.
And there was always the chance of discovery. That both terrified and thrilled me at the same time. I knew that most of the people living in our apartment building were about the same age as Lisa and I, though most were Yuppies compared to us. We just barely scraped by week to week, while our neighbors all seemed to be on the upper track, just stopping over while they got richer and their prospects brightened. I did not know any of them beyond a passing nod or greeting, and I wondered what they might think to find me there in the hall, bound, gagged and bagged like trash.
I cringed, trying to stay still and silent as two of our upstairs neighbors came home loud and drunk at some point, later. I almost got my wish, or was that my dread of discovery as one of the two women stumbled against my bag in passing. Nothing came of that though, save for another huge ejaculation on my part as the two continued up the stairs.
I lost track of time of course. There in the hall, the glare of the overhead bulb was a constant thing that filtered through my air holes, never changing. At some point though I realized that it was morning when the Super came around to haul my trashed ass downstairs to the garbage room. I panicked of course, terrified again as he heaved on my weight, surprised at how heavy the trash bag was. I sensed that he was about to open my plastic prison when miraculously I was saved by the bell; in the form of Lisa.
To my horror though, Lisa told the Super that I was a dead, bundled plant, muddy dirt and all, and she gave him approval to take me downstairs to the garbage room. Hell, she even flirted with the man, offering him a cup of coffee for his trouble, which the bastard accepted after asking and learning that I was not around. By then I was in a delusional state already, and I had no problem thinking that Lisa and the hunky Latino Super were going to cuckold me and make me their slave. I imagined Lisa seducing the swarthy man in his tight ass denims and white tee shirt that showed his rippling muscles and washboard abs. I could almost hear them laughing as she explained my predicament, and how she would love to see me at their mercy, where I belonged as their sissified maid and slave.
I was way off of course. Felix the Super simply returned, thanked my girlfriend for the coffee break and hauled me down to the basement as my head spun in delirium. Once downstairs he locked me into the wire-meshed garbage room with the rest of the trash that would be taken out to the curb come Monday morning for pick up. How long I stayed there I had no idea, as like I mentioned, there was no way to pass the track of time save for counting…
That quickly lost its appeal let me tell you.
For awhile though, the monotony was broken as trash bags were added to my cell in sporadic, random intervals. Felix came a time or two, or so I thought, dumping more bags in and on top of me. There was also a mouse that paid a visit, startling me out of a restless sleep I might add. My last visitor had been Lisa though, come to set me free at last, or so I thought. Stupid me…
My girlfriend had come to tease and taunt, simply to get us both hot – hotter. She had even dressed for the occasion in a tight V-neck tee shirt, raggedy blue jeans and those biker boots that had sucked me in so many years before. If there had been any resentment over her current zealousness in my bondage, it quickly melted away as she ripped open my bags to expose my head and give me air and water.
That however was the extent of my freedom. After teasing me to erection again, Lisa regagged me, dumped some actual filthy, smelly trash from a smaller bag into my trashy prison, and finally draped that small, black plastic shopping bag over my head to hide me again. She had repacked the garbage room too, wedging me into the trash in a rigid fit, kneeling bound there with bags heaped up about me until all that I might move was my head. Then she left.
And here I sit, literally egg on my face from the garbage she had dumped into my bag, waiting…
It was still Saturday. That was about the only certainty that flashed through my head, time wise. As to the hour, I had no idea. My time in bondage and captivity had blurred into one long entrapment broken only by my fitful naps. I was fairly certain that it was probably not too late, but I was quickly approaching a full day as garbage. And that was my hope.
Maybe Lisa was going to keep me bound and bagged for a day, and freedom was clicking closer with every tick of the clock. Hell, it was something to hope for, as I had little else.
I was drained. I was exhausted from the long-term bondage, tired and aching in every muscle, in ways that I never had before. My shoulders were stiff from being pulled back, my arms aching, my wrists numb from lack of circulation. My legs were even worse, with my feet senseless and my knees burning from kneeling on the hard and rough concrete of the garbage room. My jaw was hurting from the forced position of my mouth perpetually bulging around Lisa’s socks packed and stuffed within. I had no spit as the soft cotton soaked up every drop, and the duct tape hurt and pulled at my skin, made all the worse by the light shadow of beard that was forming. I could hardly move as Lisa had wedged me into the garbage so tightly, the boxes and bags holding me stiffly as well as keeping me stiff, if you know what I mean.
God, it was still getting me hot, writhing around in the garbage, as garbage. As much as I tried though, I could not find any relief. My body barely shifted, and I just did not have the strength to heave on the entrapping trash bags to gain even the slightest movement. The best that I could manage was to move my head, and after a short while that was bobbing on my shoulders as I drifted in and out of my dozing daze…
I jerked awake to the tiny scrabbling and scratching of my mouse friend. I could hear him… her… whatever shifting through the trash, nibbling and clawing to get at the fetid feast that waited. I assumed that there was only one, but I knew that like roaches, if there was one mouse, odds were there were more. I listened, unmoving as it started crunching on something, some tossed bit of food that met its appeal in the veritable smorgasbord of the trash room. There had not been a mouse in the apartment in years, and now I knew why. Why would a mouse bypass this feast?
It gave me something to concentrate on though, so I focused on the noise as I once again calmly tested my bonds. The ropes at my wrists had drawn tight with my struggles, and though I could finger the knots, Lisa had done her work well. There was no way that I would ever get my arms free from behind me, especially with my elbows bound. That was the final nail in the coffin concerning my escape. I would need to be released, I knew, but still, I could possibly ease my torment a bit.
In my kneeling position, I had no problem getting at the knot that lashed my wrists to my ankles. My reasoning was that if I could get that undone, I would at least gain some easing of the pressure on my limbs, being able to stretch and gain some leverage in order to push away the surrounding garbage. My hope and dream, and I thought how funny one’s goals became so simple when everything had been stripped away; dignity, movement, freedom.
I picked at the knot, a slow and redundant task. Lisa had really put her all into tightening the knots, taking out her work-related frustration harmlessly. At least she probably thought that. I hung my head, trying my best to keep trying. Every time that I rustled, the mouse paused, listening. I eased off oddly in those silent moments, waiting for the mouse to start munching down again. The noise was keeping me alert. Jeez, I wanted the companionship.
My eyes went wide as I heard the clang of the bolt sliding back on the trash room gate even as the knot slipped loose. I had not heard the basement door at all, nor feet on the stairs I had been so into my task, trying to escape or at least ease my torment. I realized though that maybe it was someone from the basement; the Super or one of his family.
Something slammed into my head. It was not heavy, but clunky, and a can hit me square in the forehead. Unwittingly I moaned with the impact and quickly heard a startled gasp –
I held my breath, my temple throbbing slightly as I listened trying to determine who it was and more importantly if they had heard me. Obviously they had, but did they know?
I froze in the silence. I could hear my heart, feel it thumping loudly in my chest. There was a rush and roar in my ears as my breath dwindled swiftly. I could only breathe through my nose, and that was sickly smelling and thin. Before too long I was gasping for breath.
“Mus!” I heard the shrill, feminine voice shriek. My one term of Seventh Grade Spanish was just enough to allow me to translate. Whoever it was thought that I was a mouse. I breathed deeply again, trying to ignore the wretched stench and held my breath as something bounced off my head again…
Whoever it was, was hurling trash bags, trying to scare the ‘mouse’ away. I took the abuse, thankful that there was nothing too solid that bounced off my head, holding my breath and sitting still. I hoped that she would stop soon, lock the gate and run for safety.
I held position. I held my breath as the seconds ticked into minutes. Finally though I had to gasp…
I blinked at the sudden glare of light as the thin shopping bag was snatched away and off of my head. I moaned, turning away and trying to focus in the sudden light. My skin started to flush and burn, realizing that I had been discovered.
“Madre de Deus…”
I looked up and saw the Super’s daughter staring at me with wide, dark eyes. I could not remember her name, as I had only spoken with her a time or two. She was pretty with her long, raven black hair framing her dark face and her thick lips forming an ‘O’ of surprise. She was just a little plump, her hips stretching the seams of her faded denims, her breasts filling out her scoop neck tee shirt. She was eighteen, at least I hoped that she was, as far as I knew. I could only imagine the trouble that I would be in if she was a minor. Like I wasn’t neck deep in the shit as it was.
“Mmmmnnn…” I said, moaning into my gag as I stared at her with huge, pleading eyes. She cocked her head as she looked at me, considering, and I saw the wheels turning in her head. Finally she grinned, her eyes lighting up and I shriveled then and there. I was getting no help from this girl I knew.
“You’re that Kenny, from Two,” she said with a thick, Latino accent, and not a question. She had recognized me, and there was no use denying it. I nodded.
“What…” she started, looking around suddenly as though trying to make certain that we were alone. When she looked back at me, her dark brown eyes were sparkling with mischief. “What is this? What’s going on?”
I stared at her stupidly, then mumbled into my gag. Get a clue, girl.
She giggled then and stepped fully into the room, kneeing the trash bags aside to get a sure footing. I watched in silence as she reached forward, tingling as her fingers scratched at the silver duct tape binding my face. It took a moment for her to find the tail, and then to unwrap the many loops that Lisa had employed. Finally I was able to work my jaw and spit out the wad of Lisa’s socks that I had been sucking clean for so long. The girl gave me about a heartbeat to regain my composure before the palm of her hand bounced upside my head.
“C’mon…” she demanded, the palm of her hand shoving at my forehead, making me look at her again. I stared at her, wondering what to say. The truth was probably best, but how would she react? What would she do? She seemed in no hurry to free me, and that worried me, but I didn’t want her to call the cops on Lisa either. I licked my dry lips…
“My girlfriend and I,” I started, trying to formulate a sentence and find the words. “We like bondage,” I finally confessed with a choked and scratchy voice, “it’s just a game.”
The Super’s daughter stared at me, her simple grin gradually growing into an evil and wicked thing. I could feel my erection growing again as she considered me, her gaze drifting over my helpless body and the rest of the trash cage.
“So, Lisa tied you up and dumped you like trash?” she asked. God, she knew Lisa’s name. AND mine. How pathetic and conceited was I that I didn’t know hers? The neighbors from the night before – the drunken women had alluded to the same thing. I WAS a prick, apparently.
I could see the girl was nervous, but getting excited too. I imagined that she had had boyfriends, but they were probably of the ‘hit and run’ variety. Kids today…
I started shaking, trembling. What was she going to do? She had a man at her mercy, waiting and ready. Not a boy from school, but a man. Please let me go…
She licked her lips. “This is so cool,” she whispered, her voice low and breathy.
I hung my head, knowing that I’d get no help from her. Worse, I was probably in for some more abuse. I gasped as she reached out and knotted her fingers into the plastic. With a grunt, she dragged me a few inches. I squirmed.
“God, you’re fat,” she said as she heaved again, pulling me a bit farther, and again, out of the trash room. I heard the garbage bags falling in my absence as she continued to tug and pull, dragging the slick bag of my prison along the concrete hallway.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice whining. “Let me go!” My voice adamant, finally finding some timbre.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, grinning as she pulled my helpless body along. Finally she stopped, right before an old door painted red and peeling. The girl released me and turned, opening the door. I stared at the darkness within.
The Super’s daughter stepped inside for a moment, partially, and I heard her moving things about. When she stepped out again, I saw that she had an evil gleam in her eye as she smirked at me, biting her lip. She stared down at me.
“I don’t think that Lisa will mind if I have a little fun, d’you?”
She laughed and reached out again, her fists wrapping in the plastic, getting a grip. She heaved again, dragging me into what I assumed to be a storage closet. She eased me into the corner, then released me, standing above me with her hands loosely resting on her hips. Despite her age, and because of the situation, I got an immediate erection – or a larger one I admit. She looked hot, and I had to start counting, reciting old poetry, running equations in my head to get my mind off of her.
“Mommy’s expecting me,” she said, her Puma clad foot shoving at my legs, pushing me back. “But I’ll be back. Soon…”
She smiled, a wide and wicked thing before she stepped back out of the closet and shut the door. I heard a bolt slide as she locked me in, followed by the soft footfalls as she treaded away along the hall. I moaned, hanging my head in defeat…
Just for a moment though.
I was in the best place so far. I had picked away at the hog-tie, and I could actually move, no longer wedged into the garbage of the trash room. Granted, I was still bound hand and foot and wrapped in plastic, but the girl hadn’t taken the time to regag me, and I could actually take a breath and get my bearings.
The Super’s daughter had locked me into a supply closet I realized as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was tight, maybe four by four and stuffed with cleaning supplies; a mop bucket, shelves running the walls, brooms and a shovel. I slumped back against the wall and started working on my bonds, breathing deeply, freedom actually a possibility...
In my dreams.
I struggled, but I couldn’t reach the knots with my fingers with any hope of undoing Lisa’s work. I started to sweat again, moaning in frustration. I was so close…
I picked at my bonds, my fingers no longer numb, scratching at the ropes that held me tight. I could breathe. I had energy and hope. Despite that however, my skills at escape were wanting. Lisa knew her knots, and every inch that I got faded as I sagged, the ropes pulling tighter, holding me tight.
The tiny, dark room smelled sterile but for the reek of garbage seeping out of my own bags. The garbage that Lisa had dumped in the previous night was starting to really spoil, and it was all that I could do not to wretch in my confinement. At some point I toppled over, still writhing, and trying to get free.
I heard sounds too. The basement was a busy place in the afternoon I learned. I heard the upper door of the basement slam over and over, the clack of heels on the rickety wooden stairs as my neighbors came down to dump their garbage. I was thankful that I was no longer trapped in the trash cage, and I wondered if I should start screaming as each new individual came down. I needed help, but could I trust my neighbors? Somehow I doubted it.
I sagged and continued to pick at my bonds…
I jerked awake, hearing the soft questioning voice of my girlfriend, or so I thought. I was out of it, dreaming again and delusional. Was I hearing things?
No. Definitely not. That was Lisa.
“Here,” I croaked, my voice dry and cracking. Louder then, “Here!”
There was silence, somewhat. I could hear someone – Lisa I assumed – moving about, but she said nothing. After a short time of clanging, clanking and rustling beyond the door, I heard the locking bolt slide back. The door to my closet, my new prison opened…
I stared up at Lisa in all her glory. She was standing, hands on curvy hips as she looked into the dark closet and down on me with a bemused expression. She was dressed in a tight tee shirt – blue this time – and still that raggedy pair of blue jeans with the knees torn out. Her blonde, shoulder-length hair was loose and brushing her shoulders, framing her smiling face. But of course my eyes drifted towards her feet, and I saw her toes wiggling from beneath the ratty hems of her jeans. I heard her laugh.
“One track mind, Kenny,” she giggled, sliding her foot forward. I stared at her foot, a thin, black rubber flip-flop barely containing the grace of her perfection. I felt my erection growing again.
“See, he’s fine.”
I heard another voice, the Super’s daughter. She stepped up and into the frame of my view. Both women were silhouetted by the light of the outer hall as they crowded the doorway of my current prison. I stared up at the two, my skin flushing crimson with embarrassment. I could not believe that Lisa had drawn the other woman, the Super’s daughter into our games. I was hard as a rock though, I have to say.
Lisa squatted down and grabbed the torn sack about my neck, drawing it tight in her fists.
“Had enough?” she asked, and I blinked, staring at her. She smiled, my heart melting at her beauty. I heard the Super’s daughter giggle.
“Yes…” I whispered, hanging my head.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I said with respect. The Super’s daughter laughed as Lisa stood up again.
“Get him out of that,” Lisa said, pointing at the trash bags. The Super’s daughter nodded, her grin widening as she stepped into the closet and started to peel my plastic prison away. Within seconds I was lying naked at their feet, squirming for their delight, sweating and not a little bit terrified.
“So cool…” I heard the Super’s daughter whisper, and Lisa agreed.
I felt a pressure on my groin. I looked and saw Lisa’s foot pressing down, her toes wiggling against the rubber of her thong sandal. The Super’s daughter was grinning, watching, barely able to contain herself.
“Like what you see, Anna?” Lisa asked, pressing harder and watching me squirm.
Anna, the Super’s daughter stepped up and pressed the sole of her shoe to my forehead, helping to hold me down. Lisa laughed.
“He likes it too,” she said, pressing harder, making me writhe. “I can only imagine how hot he’s getting with the two of us here.” Lisa chuckled, easing her foot back. I took a deep breath as Anna applied her weight, leaning forward.
“We’ll do this again,” Lisa said, watching as my tongue stretched out to lick at the bottom of Anna’s sneakers. “And next time, you’re invited. I like this closet.”
Lisa replaced her hands to her hips and glanced about the tiny storage closet.
“A lot of possibilities,” she laughed. She jammed her heel into my crotch. I screamed, Anna shoving her foot into my mouth to muffle the noise.
“You ready to go home, bitch?” Lisa asked with a bit of malice, grinding her foot. I grunted the affirmative, my response stifled against the sole of Anna’s shoe. The Super’s daughter giggled and stepped off my face.
“Yes…” I whispered, almost whimpered.
Lisa turned and strode away towards the stairs, where she paused, glancing back, waiting. I was still tied, though my hog-tie had been released. Still, I could barely move. Lisa grinned as Anna stepped aside to watch.
“Better hurry boy,” she said, her hand on the banister, one foot on the stairs. She was so hot. “I’m horny as hell. I’ll be waiting.”
I watched as Lisa climbed the stairs, the sound of her flip-flops flapping on every step as she receded in the distance above. I glanced at Anna, but she just shook her head, biting down on her lower lip to contain her glee.
I started worming my way towards and up the stairs. It was slow and awkward, and provided much amusement to Anna. I flushed red – redder – but I didn’t care. Not really.
I was horny too, you see.
And Lisa was waiting…
There was still Sunday.
Story © Carnaj 2007
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story continues in Recycled 4